Go Figure
by SingleHearts
Summary: "How these two kept the energy to always argue even after a long tiresome day, he had no clue. But the alpha was growing a little tired of their constant bickering." A world in which Malia and Stiles don't really get a long, but are slowly beginning to.
1. Fitting

**Okay, I am guilty once again. I wrote a random fic when I haven't even finished with my other fics =/...But i couldnt help it, the idea just came to me and i started typing away. -What if Stiles and Malia actually didnt get along very well, they bickered a lot and Stiles still had this weird crush on Miss Martin. What if Malia had been friends with Scott before the accident and there was this weird rivalry between her and Stiles.- I dont know something along those lines. Yet, as you all know i am a Stalia fan so yes, this is Malia and Stiles developing or coming in truth with their feelings for each other (cliche i know, so what i dont really care). **

**But yes, i hope you like. **

**Please, pretty pretty please. Leave some reviews, tell me if i should also focus on continuing and finishing this fic or if i should just delete it and forget about it. Review, i beg of you! **

**T****hank you and happy holidays!**

"I think we should head out west," Stiles was impatiently tapping on the glove compartment of his jeep, turning to Scott who was momentarily driving his car. "But north is where he is," Malia was sitting in the back seat, smashed between Lydia and Kira who were both looking out their respective windows. "Yes but they are following us," Stiles turned to look at Malia clearly stating the obvious matters of their current situation. "So, they will follow us west," Malia did not always comprehend the complicated ways Stilinkski's mind worked, in her perspective the boy was just a tangle of knots that kept getting worse by the minute. "It's called losing them, getting them confused, hiding our tracks," Stiles had stopped tapping on his car in order to use both of his hands to make his point clearer with unnecessary hand gestures. Malia raised an eyebrow at the gibberish the boy was producing and quickly responded, "It's called being stupid." The boy flailed his arms before turning his body completely around to face the were-coyote, "You know what, I've been doing this far longer than you-"

"Yeah, and look how far you've gotten," Malia swiftly cut him off with a smirk on her face and the boy only gawked at the were-coyote. "Wha-well at least I'm still alive!" he quickly remarked before the were-coyote decided to call wins on their little back to back "conversation". Malia dismissively shrugged her shoulders and looked on forward, ignoring Stiles' heated expression, "I say we stop wasting time and head up north." Stiles turned back again to sit formally in his seat, "NO, we head out west."

"North"

"West"

"No-"

"Stiles! Malia! Stop. We are heading west, we can't have them know where Derek is," Scott finally interfered shutting both Stiles and Malia up. He didn't bother to turn to look at any of them both, but he could hear Malia grunting and muttering beneath her breath that it was a stupid plan and he could already sense Stiles smirking like an idiot. How these two kept the energy to always argue even after a long tiresome day, he had no clue. But the alpha was growing a little tired of their constant bickering, these two were definitely worse than Stiles and Isaac, at least with Derek there wasn't any back-to-back since Derek knew how to keep his mouth shut.

They arrived at a crappy Motel an hour later, and Stiles was sent to check out two rooms for the night. The pack was exhausted and they just wanted to hit the hay before they had to get up 6 hours later to keep searching for Derek. "Two rooms please," Stiles said as soon as he got to the front desk. There was a skinny grungy man in his mid 30s standing behind the counter, and Stiles tried his best at avoiding direct contact with the man who looked like a complete pedophile. "There's only one," the man hissed and Stiles looked up from his wallet not clearly understanding what the man had said.

"Wha-?"

"Only one. You want it or not?" The man repeated again with a sterner voice and Stiles quickly nodded handing him his ID and the cash.

"Finally, I just want to get in take a shower and go to sleep," Lydia yawned as she crossed her arms in front her chest and bounced up and down to keep herself warm. The banshee could suffer from cold but never from a bad outfit, her short high-waist skirt was on point, as always.

Stiles came out of the office, fidgeting with the one room key in his hands looking from Scott to Lydia, but mostly to Lydia who was going to freak out with the recent news. "Uh-umm there was only one room left"

"What!"Lydia exclaimed as she let her arms fall from their embrace, as green eyes fell angrily on Stiles. The Stilinski kid quickly filled in the detail of their room before pursing his lips, "two bed bedroom." "Great!" the banshee exclaimed rolling her eyes at their luck.

Scott turned to look at Stiles who seemed a little disappointed with himself and quickly responded, "its okay, me and Stiles can sleep on the floor. Now let's go." The rest of the pack followed on without further complaints, that is, until they reached the room.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to sleep on the floor?" Stiles was quick with his smart ass remarks. They had opened the door to their room and found it to be less than a bit horrific. They had hoped that it was the darkness playing tricks on them but who were they kidding, the place was disgusting light or no light.

Stiles swore that the carpet's original color was a tan creamy tone not the nasty black they were witnessing before their eyes. Malia was the first to sniff up the place by the doorway and step into the damn room without whining about its unusual colors and tones. Yet, Stiles couldn't get over how disgusting the floor looked, he didn't want to set a foot on it better yet sleep on it.

Scott sighed and stepped in as well, setting his duffel bag carefully on the carpet like the thing might come alive and swallow it whole. "You could sleep with me if you want." Kira quietly offered as she stood only a few inches away from the alpha, "Not sleep _sleep_ with me. Just on the bed...with me, not with me but alongside me." The Kitsune was beginning to blush as Scott looked at her with knitted eyebrows and a faint smile playing on the corner of his mouth. "You don't mind?" he quietly asked as he tried his best not to let out a full on grin. He was a teen were-wolf not the freaking big bad wolf; Stiles would say that he honestly wouldn't see the difference between the two-honestly, come on. Kira shook her head while she kept her eyes wide on Scott.

Stiles nodded and let out a sigh at the two love-birds, "Well okay, that makes for awesome opportunities." He clapped his hands together and rubbed them as he turned to look at where Lydia and Malia were currently standing, "So ladies, mind sharing the bed?" Lydia rolled her eyes, turned away and flicked her hair as she headed for the bathroom. Malia just stood staring at the boy, arms crossed in front of her, "I don't care." Stiles rolled his own eyes before slumping his shoulders, "Great." The boy was sleeping on the floor tonight, there was no doubt about that.

* * *

"Move over," Malia grunted as she shoved Stiles to the side, she was trying to get under the blanket but Stiles was sprawled all over. "Huh?" the boy mumbled, not yet fully awake. "It's cold, so move," the were-coyote pushed again, this time making Stiles flop onto his side. "What the hell?" Stiles was finally awake rubbing his eyes as he tried to get his human night vision on. "Malia? What the hell are you doing? You have the bed with Lydia," he quietly complained as he pulled the cover away from the were-coyote. Malia grunted when she felt the blanket leave her body and she sat right up, "she kicks" she simply stated. Stiles was cut off guard and he quickly let go of the blanket as he stretched his neck to get a glimpse at the strawberry-blonde banshee sleeping peacefully on the mattress, "She does?" Malia covered herself again attempting to get on the blanket outstretched over the rug, not wanting to sleep directly on the nightmare floor as well. "Yes, so move over," but Stiles doesn't budge, he simply stares at Malia who is wriggling her body on the floor trying to find a space on the safe zone. "There's plenty of floor space you know" Stiles raises an eyebrow at the were-coyote and he knows she can see him perfectly. Malia sighs, a clear sign of frustration, the type of sigh only Stiles Stilinski gets from Malia Hale. "Yes, but there is only one blanket left, so if unless you don't want to be left in the cold. Move. Over." The were-coyote says between gritted teeth and Stiles knows to oblige now before he sees a pair of sapphire eyes.

Stiles scoots over allowing Malia to fit comfortably in the leftover space. "Don't you were-creatures have like enough body heat to keep you warm, even stark naked?" Stiles sarcastically asks but the were-coyote replies nonetheless, "Nope, my fur coat did that. No fur coat." Stiles finally eases into the blanket that is covering Malia and pulls on it, trying to cover his left arm that is being left out in the open. Malia has a good grip on their only cover refusing to give Stiles any more coverage and so the boy decides to turn on his side instead. "Unff," Malia lets out as she feels the weight of a shoulder on her arm. "Sorry," the boy quickly responds darting his gaze from her shoulder to her furrowed eyebrows.

He had turned the wrong way, Stiles realizes this a little too late. He is facing Malia and he could feel her warm breath on his face; they are too close, too close. Suddenly he realizes he is breathing too obviously and he holds in his breath, trying his best not too look her in the eyes. "Could you relax," Malia simply states as she looks at Stiles dead in the eyes, not a hint of awkwardness in her expression. "Well I'm trying, but you are taking all of my personal space," Stiles quietly explains, trying but failing at flailing his hands in a dramatic exclamation.

"Urgh"

"Stop pulling the blanket"

"Well I'm cold" Malia grunts at the boy laying only a few inches away from her. They are never going to get comfortable if they don't get closer to each other-physically. "I was here first you know," Stiles annoyingly remarks at the were-coyote and surprisingly she takes a while to snarl back at him. She lets out a sigh before dropping her arms to the sides of her, "Yeah, you never stop reminding me." Stiles feels guilty all of a sudden and he stops trying to pull the blanket away from her. He hadn't meant in that way.

Malia could smell the stench of guilt and anxiety coming from Stiles, and having him this close made the stench even worse. "Why don't you slip in with Lydia," Malia mockingly suggests but she could instantly hear Stiles' change of heart beat and she rolls her eyes at the hormonal teen, "Oh god really? You can't even try to get a hold of yourself, sad and pathetic." Stiles grunts letting his tensed muscles relax as he shuffles a little closer to the were-coyote, "Shut up." A hint of a smile is playing on both their lips but the dark is in their favor tonight hiding them from each other. "Ugh" Stiles complains feeling a little too constrained in his current position. He is trying to stay under the cover and over the safety blanket without touching Malia-which is deeming to be quite impossible if he wants to breathe.

Malia wants to go to sleep already, and she knows she won't be able to with Stiles fidgeting and squirming around next to her. "Okay, hold on," She says before quickly grabbing Stiles by the right arm and flipping him over with much ease. Stiles falls with on "urf" on his left side and he is no longer confronted with a pair of big brown eyes. He is just about to complain again, because he is almost out of the safe zone, his face so close to the dirty carpet when Malia pulls him back in. She had wrapped her right arm over his waist and pulled him into an almost embrace. His back was now pressing flush against Malia's chest and he could literally feel the softness and warmth of her breasts; her chin resting comfortably on his shoulder as she laid her cheek by his ear. "There, now shut up and go to sleep," Malia said, and he could feel her warm breath on his neck. He felt a sudden shiver run through his body, and Malia responded by pulling him closer and snuggling up against him.

Stiles shut his lids tight, not daring to move a muscle as he felt heat rush over his whole body. He had never ever been this close to a female before, ever. His stomach clenched when Malia nuzzled her face on the hollow space between his shoulder and neck, his heart was beginning to beat rapidly and his breathing was becoming uneven."Uh-umm," that is all Stiles could manage to say, he didn't know if he was having a panic attack or something else. Yet, Malia didn't want to take notice in his sudden change of body temperature, and his rapid heartbeat or the way his chest was heaving. She didn't even want to concern herself over the pleasurable smell he was producing. Malia just wanted to sleep. "Shut it Stiles," and Stiles didn't say another word that night. It didn't take long for him to feel comfortable and safe in Malia's embrace. Soon, he himself was subconsciously nuzzling up against her and Malia was doing the same.

* * *

"Awww well isn't this sweet," Lydia cooed sarcastically at the pair snuggled up on the floor. Malia hadn't let go of Stiles, his back was still pressed flush against her chest; her face hidden between the hollow space of his neck and shoulder. Stiles had curled himself against Malia, holding her hand close to his chest, determined not to let it go while he slept.

"What?" Malia replied blinking rapidly as she raised her head and looked around the room. "Okay, get up you guys. We have to go," she heard Scott say, but she noticed a hint of a smile in his tone-if that was even possible. Stiles was starting to move, his eyelids still shut, pulling Malia's hand closer to his chest. "So you bicker all day and cuddle all night. Adorable, really" Lydia continued to mock as she stood in front of the pair arms crossed loosely in front of her chest.

Stiles finally managed to wake up, and at noticing Malia's hand in his he shot up off of the floor like a rocket. "wha-oh no." Stiles exclaimed wide eyed licking his lips as he looked from Lydia to Malia, who was rubbing her forehead, and then to Scott, who was smiling like an idiot. "Ow!" Malia exclaimed still rubbing at her head, the dork had hit her with his shoulder when he flailed. She didn't understand why Kira and Scott were grinning and smiling and she didn't want to know why Lydia was tapping her foot.

"Uh-uh. It's not what you think, Lydia kicks in her sleep." Stiles gestures towards Lydia and she lets her hands fall to her sides as they clench into tiny fists. "I do not kick in my sleep" Lydia defensively states, but Malia is quick to oppose. "Yes you do, and pretty damn hard. You should use that next time we're up against some villain." Lydia only huffs as Malia gets up from the floor, her body suddenly shivering to the loss of warmth. "Hurry up you guys, we have to get moving," Scott calls out again making his way to the door with duffel bag in hand.

Stiles grunts and so does Malia but they put on their shoes following Scott's orders. Lydia simply turns around flashing her strawberry-blonde locks at the two before heading out the door behind Kira. Malia turns to look at Stiles who was secretly looking at her but quickly turned away when their eyes met. Malia doesn't want to admit it but Stiles was blushing when she locked eyes with him momentarily. Awkward kid, she thought to herself but she felt something in the pit of her stomach at his reaction that secretly made her smile to herself.


	2. All About Control

**WOW, So out of nowhere i got a bunch of reviews and this awesome follower and I was like damn I haven't updated. So when I was supposed to be studying for my "mid-term" this Tuesday I began writing this instead. So bare with me if it is kind of crappy, because I literally just wrote it on the spot. **

**I hope you like it and that it was worth the wait. I don't know if this chapter matches up to the previous, but we could just call it a bunch of one-shots with the same theme lol **

**Tell me if you like or don't like, pretty please leave a review. Thanks and enjoy=) **

He wakes up to the sound of muffled voices and plates clattering downstairs. He can barely keep his lids open when he turns to look at his digital clock flashing 8:46 am in bright red. He groans and throws a little tantrum on his bed when he remembers it's not a freaking school day and nobody he knows has been recently kidnapped.

It is Saturday for fucks sake! Can't they all just sleep in on a freaking Saturday!?

He was going to ignore the fact that there was activity going on downstairs and fall back asleep. Nobody was coming up and into his bedroom to wake him up anyways. There was no need for him to make himself present at whatever little reunion was going on in his home. But then he couldn't ignore the itching curiosity of knowing what the hell was going on in the first floor even if he sort of already knew who might be the cause of all the mayhem. So he gets up and out of bed, grumpy and with droopy disheveled hair. He doesn't even bother to wash his face, brush his teeth or fix his "fancy" sleeping attire. Stiles simply walks down the stairs with lids still half closed, yawning like a hippo and scratching his belly like a very pleased chimpanzee.

"Okay, now flip!" his dad is in the kitchen by the stove, rooting for a very concentrated were-coyote with a pan full of pancake batter in her grip. Stiles eyebrows raise and his eyes widen when he sees the pancake do two flips in the air before landing neatly on the pan. His father almost screams "touchdown" when the batter hits the pan and Stiles almost joins him in on the celebration but detains himself when Malia begins laughing and smiling brightly in clear excitement.

She always looks so innocent and pure when she laughs like that, her eyes sparkling with the sweet excitement of doing something right. It is the type of expression that always takes him by surprise, reminding him that such a thing actually still exists in this fucked up world.

"10 out of 10 Malia. You flip pancakes better than ol' Stilinksi," his dad is beaming at the girl, ruffling her hair as she grins from ear to ear. He has never quite understood the attachment his parents developed for Malia when they were all just toddlers. He still can't understand why his father, the Sheriff, still feels this 'fatherly daughterly' attachment for Malia even after all these years. Maybe he could understand why his mother felt the need to make brownies for the girl, telling her how pretty she always looked, brushing loose strands of hair behind her ear when his mother was still alive. It was because his mom had secretly always wanted a little girl, and Malia was the closest she could get. But his dad, his dad he just doesn't have a clue.

"Ugh! Gross, dad! You better wash your hands before you touch anything else. You know she doesn't wash her hair, and we don't know where she's been." Malia's grin fades and turns into a snarl that she directs at the Stilinski kid. The Sheriff just frowns, turning to look at his son with disapproving eyes, "Why don't you clean up the drool from your chin first, son." Malia stifles a laugh and Stiles grumbles as he rubs at his chin.

"Well I need to head to the station. Stiles, we made you some pancakes they're still fresh," the sheriff is putting on his jacket as he nods towards the fresh batch sitting deliciously on the kitchen table. Stiles nods and walks over to his dad giving him a tight hug before he heads out the door. After all that has happened, Stiles has learned the importance of hugs and telling his dad that he loves him every time he gets the chance.

The sheriff pats his son's back a few times before releasing him and squeezes his shoulder looking him dead in the eye while he raises a parenting brow at his only son, " Stiles..." But Stiles doesn't let him finish because he already knows where this is going so he simply sighs and rolls his eyes instead. He gets that his father has earned the privilege to be worried every time he leaves him alone but still, Stiles can't help but feel a little suffocated by it. "Yeah, I know dad. I'll be careful and I'll call if something does happen." The Sheriff is not exactly convinced but he lets out a sigh and squeezes his son's shoulder one more time before gently letting go.

"Okay, then I should get going," he turns to walk towards the door; his hand is already on the doorknob when he stops, suddenly remembering something. He turns back to look at his son and at Malia who is smiling innocently at him. Mr. Stilinski raises his brows and points a finger at each kid, "You two, I don't want to get any domestic calls about two teenagers tearing the house down." Both Stiles and Malia groan but the Sheriff keeps on warning, "Stiles, no with the snarky remarks and smart mouth comments around Malia, and Malia try not to shove dirt into Stiles mouth again, he may seem bigger but he is still pretty weak." Stiles lets his jaw fall to the ground, that is so not fair.

Mr. Stilinski takes one last sweeping concerned look at the two teens, "Just, try to get along okay, or do I have to take you two back at the station with me. There are a whole lot of empty files that need to be shredded." Stiles lets out an exasperated sigh, "Dad we aren't six anymore. I think me and Malia can behave like a couple of sophisticated adults okay. Well, at least I can, can't say much for the were-coyote." Malia growls in the background and Mr. Stilinski pulls the signature "_Stiles." _But the teen just smirks, "I'm kidding. Don't worry pops we'll be alright, I'll take her out for a walk." The Sherriff grunts and calls out his name again in a more sterner voice but Stiles is already opening the door for him and gently pushing him out of the house with a half-smile and a wink for goodbye.

* * *

"_Hey_ Malia! Dad just said those are mine!" He runs towards the table almost tripping on his own foot as he lands with a thud on the table. "But I made them!" Malia remarks as she shoves a fat pancake into her mouth. "Yeah, with _our_ ingredients, you freeloader."

Stiles snatches the fresh batch out of Malia's grip and he smirks at the were-coyote in mockery. Malia is fuming, and she definitely wants to run out to get a clump of dirt just to shove it in his mouth. "Don't even think about it. You heard what my dad said."

Malia crosses her arms in front of her chest and leans back on the chair she is sitting in, "That you are weak and pathetic." Stiles squints his eyes, ready to respond with a snarky remark but his words get muffled by the pancake stuffed in his mouth. "Yeah, and I'm disgusting," Malia comments as she gets up from the chair and heads to the living room grabbing Stiles hoodie that is laying on the sofa, and tugs it on over her long sleeve shirt.

Mr. Stilinksi is not even in his police car yet when he hears all the bickering coming from the two teens inside his house. He massages his temples and looks down at the floor, a faint smile creeps on his face and he shakes his head as if to dismiss thoughts and opens his car door instead. _Some things just never change_, he thinks to himself as he drives off the driveway.

* * *

"Why don't you ever bring your own jacket?" Stiles mumbles as he devours another pancake, not even bothering to smother it with syrup. Malia just shrugs as she pulls on the sleeves of his hoodie getting comfortable in it quite easily.

Stiles has gotten quite used to Malia borrowing and wearing his clothes whenever she comes over. He doesn't quite understand why she doesn't do it when she goes over to Scott's house or why she always refuses to borrow either Kira's or Lydia's clothes. She simply just chooses to snatch his clothes without permission and cover them with her scent, and after the third time of her doing that he simply just stopped minding.

"So, why are you here?" He plops down on the sofa with a plate of pancakes in hand as he secretly searches for the control remote with his eyes. Malia shrugs again as she takes off her shoes and strips down her tight jeans. Stiles would think he would be used to seeing Malia's bare legs or better yet thighs, but he's not. He is definitely not used to it, so he chokes on pancake.

It's different to know that Malia borrows his clothes because she is always cold and she doesn't own anything warm of her own. And it's different to see her flopping the sleeves around because his clothes fit her just a tad bit too big. It's different—it's normal. But to see his hoodie loosely covering her form, the hem only reaching her not even mid-thigh and seeing so much tan skin exposed, under _his _clothing. Well that is _different_ different—not normal.

Malia furrows her brows at the awkward boy before plopping down on the floor, reclining her back at the foot of the sofa. "He's out hunting," she vaguely replies and Stiles swallows down hard getting a little teary eyed because _damn_ that hurt, stupid pancake. But he reaches down to get yet another pancake from his plate when Malia swiftly turns around and digs her face into it snatching the last one away with her mouth. "Hey!" Stiles yells but the were-coyote only grins with a pancake dangling in between gritted teeth.

Stiles can't help but smile, because _fine_ she can be damn cute sometimes, _only_ sometimes. "Doesn't he know that hunting is technically illegal here in Beacon Hills," he tries to dodge the fact that he caved in and smiled by continuing a pretty much dead end conversation. Malia only shrugs again, and he knows that this conversation about her non-biological father is not going to happen. Stiles and everyone at Beacon Hills who knows Tate knows about his little "hiking" trips, a.k.a "hunting trips".

Yet, the only time that Tate has been caught in his little illegal pleasures is when he almost killed his own coyote adoptive daughter, other than that Tate hasn't been caught red handed, yet. Although, he has been detained for getting too drunk and causing domestic disturbance around the neighborhood after getting back from his "hiking trips." And thus this is why Malia is here for the day and probably the night. But Stiles already knew this before he even asked, because today is the second weekday of the month and Malia is always here on the second weekday of the month.

"Scoobey-Doo is on right now," Malia says as she guards her 20/20 vision onto different places of the room. _Shit._ Stiles hasn't found the remote control yet, and Malia is an expert at finding hidden inanimate objects. She whips her head to the right and Stiles follows, she whips her head to the left and so does he, but instead of looking out onto the room he is staring at her instead with an anxious expression on his face.

He sees the moment her eyes sparkle and her lips curl into a smile, and that is when he jumps into action. He follows her stare onto the curtain next to the television set and that is when he notices the sneaky little device hiding just right under it. Malia doesn't tear her stare from it; she watches it as if it were prey and Stiles knows he has to be quick because the girl will literally pounce on the remote control.

The room turns utterly silent for a few seconds before the two teens go at it. Stiles stumbles off of the sofa falling hard on the floor, obstructing Malia's path. She emits a low growl in response because she knows where this is going and she is up for the challenge. Stiles strains his neck before using his legs and hands to start crawling towards the remote control, but Malia is a thousand times better at maneuvering herself on four than Stilinksi. So she is ahead of him in a matter of seconds, but Stiles is not ready to give up yet so he gets up with a little help from Malia. He leans onto her back and pushes down with his hand, using her as a lever as he gets up from the ground.

Malia has the urge to turn around and bite down on his hand but she doesn't, instead she reaches for his ankle and pulls causing Stiles to come flying down with his arm outstretched like a dead superman. Malia snorts and almost literally crawls over Stiles as she finally gets the control.

And this is why Mr. Stilinski was worried about domestic disturbance phone calls.

Stiles should know when to quit, but he doesn't want to watch Scoobey-Doo, he hates that stupid talking dog and his high as fuck friend. He rather watch Tom and Jerry or SpongeBob, hey who knows maybe even Star-Trek is on at this hour.

He gets up from the floor with a grunt, clearly annoyed but not quite done with this match. But Malia already thinks she's won and she is crawling back with control in hand to her usual spot on the floor. Stiles watches her with twitchy eyes, and just when she is about to turn on the TV, he pounces.

He should learn how to pounce, he should learn self-defense; he should just work out period.

He had the remote control in his hand, he felt it. He also felt Malia tumble underneath him, so how the hell was she on top of him now, with both his wrists pinned over his head by only one of her hands while the other dangled the control remote over his head in a teasing way.

He tries to wiggle out from under her, but let's face it she is supernatural and he is not. And even if she wasn't, Stiles acknowledges the fact that she would be stronger than him.

Malia is straddling him, holding him tightly under her as she grins mockingly at him her eyes twinkling with victory and Stiles only sticks his tongue out at her. This takes him way back to when they were about 5 years old and Malia always beat him at pretend wrestling. Why was he the only one to get humiliated like this? She never once did this to Scott.

"I get to choose what to watch all day," Malia menacingly states and Stiles scoffs, _as if._ "No Star-Trek," Malia declares and Stiles has to widen his eyes because it's Saturday and today _he_ gets to watch TV. "Wha- No Star-"

"No Star-Trek," Malia states again and Stiles can't give up now. He can't oblige because damn it, it's his house, _his_ TV and he is watching Star Trek. He wriggles underneath her once again, huffing and puffing and almost whining when he can't set free.

"Stiles, the more you move the more I'll keep you here," and he stops moving, mostly because he is already tired and his face, he can already feel, is all splotchy red. "I get to choose," Malia looks him dead in the eye and Stiles closes his lids tight.

Malia bites down on her lip to keep from laughing, because she is trying to be serious but he looks too funny to her in a heart-warming way. She leans in closer to him, shifting her weight just a little more above his abdomen.

The movement sends a hotness spiraling upwards to her belly, and then she is too aware of her bare thighs pressing firmly on Stiles' sides. But she pushes that weird feeling aside and whispers sternly to the boy beneath her as she hovers over him, "_Stiles." _

Stiles feels her shift over him and he gasps letting his lids fly open when she whispers his name. Her hair falls like a curtain on the sides of her face and she is close enough, her hair long enough to shield them both. Suddenly is like they are in their own little private behind the scenes.

Her eyes are wide and glistening, and her bottom lip looks puffy and wet. Stiles can feel her warm breath over him and it sends goosebumps up and down his body, the hairs on his arms curl and he clenches his restrained fists. He licks his lips because suddenly they've become too dry and Malia slightly parts hers as she stares down on him.

He can feel her leaning closer, and his heart is beating loud and fast in his chest. She is only a few inches away from him and his abdomen is clenching, yearning for something. He lifts his legs, bending his knees, sliding his feet closer to him with the hidden intention of bringing Malia closer because he can't use his hands and his body is internally yearning for closeness with this girl before him.

Malia's heart is beating like crazy, she would say like a rabbits, and she feels heat rush over her like a hot wave. Her eyes keep darting back to his lips, and her thighs keep tightening around his sides and she suddenly wants to press her body flush against his.

She presses down on him just a little, where she is straddling him and it sends a shiver up her spine almost making her eyes roll back. She feels really hot, and she is about to press down again almost immediately when she hears Stiles whimper and she stops herself.

She looks down at him, and she takes him in fully this time, not distracted by his mouth. His face is flushed and his eyes are immensely glossy, pupils dilated, and she doesn't know if he is about to cry. He looks like he might cry and Malia leans back just a little. This causes him to whine again and she notices the way the muscles and veins in his arms are strained and how his knuckles are bruising white. She lets go of his hands immediately, feeling a little frightened. She didn't mean to actually hurt him. She was playing, like they always used to play before she turned into a full on coyote.

She turns her attention back to his face, still straddling him and Stiles is looking at her with pleading eyes, but he doesn't struggle to break free from under her. He simply stays still looking at her, his chest heaving beneath her. Suddenly, she feels extremely frightened and she falls awkwardly to the side off of him because her knees feel too weak and shaky to stand.

She pushes herself away from him and pulls on the hem of Stiles' hoodie because she feels to cold down there and exposed—which is extremely weird for the were-coyote. Stiles pushes himself off the floor with a trembling arm and looks towards Malia who is far away from him now. He blinks too quickly trying to get his mind together and his heart beat settled before trying to speak to the frightened were-coyote.

Malia takes notice of the control in her hand and tosses it at him, "Here, I don't care you can choose what to watch." Stiles wasn't even thinking about television but he doesn't get to say anything because Malia finally finds the feeling in her legs and quickly rushes to get her jeans and pulls them back on.

His heart is still hammering like crazy, and the clenching down there is still there and he thanks the all mighty beings that things down there didn't get onto the point of a 'hard' situation because that would have totally freaked out Malia _and_ him.

He lets out a shaky breath and stays right where he is because he doesn't think he would be able to make it to the couch gracefully at all. Malia is already sitting comfortably in her usual spot down by the sofa, staring intently at the television screen that is not even on yet.

He finally turns it on and flicks it on to Scooby-Doo, he curses the damn cartoon in his mind and begins biting the corners of his nails. Malia could smell his anxiety, a scent that is quite familiar and she almost sighs in relief but decides not to and instead stares at him waiting for him to turn around to look at her.

He finally does, because Malia's stare is no joke, he could feel it even if he was standing on the other side of a parking lot. "Sorry," is all she says with an extremely serious face that leaves Stiles a little puzzled. He shakes his head because he doesn't get it, he feels like he should be the one apologizing. "I hurt you," she states as she furrows her eyebrows. "You almost cried," she says and Stiles can see the corner of her mouth twitch before it turns into a frown. Now he is afraid that she might start crying.

Malia doesn't cry, and if she feels like crying she is usually great at keeping the waterworks detained. Yet, he remembers clearly how every time she made him cry after their little one on ones as kids, her mouth would start to quiver and her eyes would fill with tears. She actually did cry one time when he bawled his eyes out because he fell off a sled that Malia had been pushing him in—he broke his arm.

He gets a little panicky with the sudden familiar expression on her face, and he crawls towards her immediately. "Hey, no I wasn't going to cry. You didn't hurt me. It's just that I'm a sore loser that's all." He pulls her in towards him and he digs his fingers into her hair massaging at her scalp. Malia lets out a sigh and she turns up to look at him with doe eyes, "Really?" He forgets how sensitive Malia actually is sometimes, with her ferocious blunt persona always on the surface. "Yeah really," he half smiles at her as he gently tucks a lose strand of her hair behind the shell of her ear and she smiles at him. He stares into her eyes for a minute too long and he can feel his heart accelerating again, but Malia is quick with her actions. She leans forward, quickly brushing the tip of her nose against his and falls back into her usual spot before Stiles could even blink.

He is only left with a stupid expression on his face, but Malia doesn't see it because she is pouring all her concentration on Scooby-Doo. Stiles rests his hand against his chest as he leans against the couch, it was just supposed to be a normal Saturday.

Some things just never change.


	3. Ice-Cream & Strings

**Ice-Cream &amp; Strings**

**I don't know where this is coming from, but its coming and i cant stop it. It's cliche and maybe its too much or not enough. I dont know. I have mixed feelings about this. **

**I need your opinion, so please review. I am lost in this confusing little world of theirs and i don't know from where or how to go about it. I already have an idea for another chapter or "one-shot" on this (this mostly never happens)...**

**So please tell me if i am going about it the right way. Pretty please. **

"Stiles!" The Sheriff walks into his home breaking the peaceful silence that had enveloped the house. It is dark but bright enough for the Sheriff to acknowledge that no window has been broken. "Malia!" He calls out once again before stepping further into the house.

It is too quiet, and this worries the Sheriff. He slips his hand under his jacket and around his back, ready to pull out the gun if necessary. He is getting ready to start patrolling his own home when he hears the faint noise of the television and then the sound of something heavy fall. The groans and complaints of two teens echo afterwards and Mr. Stilinksi drops his hand and guarding position.

He steps into the living room and sighs, "Stiles, get off of Malia." Out of all the things he imagined, this was the last thing he ever thought of finding after coming home from work.

He was expecting to find clumps of dirt on the floor, a window broken or maybe even a vase; he was expecting to find food and wrappers all over the kitchen table but never his teenage son sprawled over a teenage were-coyote. In all honesty, Mr. Stilinski had been expecting to find the past in his present, but he should know better. Malia and Stiles are still Malia and Stiles, but Mr. Stilinski has to face the fact that the kids aren't exactly _kids_ anymore.

Malia growls and rolls over pushing Stiles off of her. He had fallen asleep on the edge of the sofa mid-afternoon and had been dangerously teetering between falling and not falling from the sofa for the last half hour. Mr. Stilinski's booming voice was the right amount of push needed to send Stiles teetering down.

Malia had been laying peacefully on the floor right below Stiles, watching nonsensical television while she focused on Stiles soft sleepy breathing. She had gotten bored of watching Jeopardy without having Stiles shout out all the right answers before the contestants, and then making fun of them when they answered wrong. So instead she decided to play a game of her own, in which she counted and guessed how many steady heartbeats Stiles could get to before he said something stupid within his sleep.

Turns out Stiles says a lot of stupid stuff when he is asleep, but this Malia already knew.

"Hey dad, you're back early," Stiles says as he rubs the back of his shoulder. "Yeah, thought I take you two out for a treat," Mr. Stilinski replies with a smile and Malia shoots right up from the floor almost knocking Stiles back down on his back. "Ice-cream sound good?" The Sheriff asks and Malia nods enthusiastically. Stiles gets up from the floor and hurries for the stairs with two left feet. "I'll be down in a few," he calls out as he stumbles up the stairs and into his room.

All day he's been in his sleeping attire—loose pants and an x-large white t-shirt. He didn't even bother to brush his teeth or gel up his hair. His bangs almost reached his eyebrows and he looked like such a kindergartener. But he didn't care if Malia saw him in this state, with eye boogers and all. The only other person allowed to see him like this, apart from his dad, is good ol' Scott. He really doesn't care how he looks around them, they are family. Well, he can't say much for the were-coyote since she just pretty much wiggled her way in without an invitation. At least, _he _never gave her an invitation. He has his parents and Scott to blame for that.

He gets dressed and ready in record time and heads downstairs feeling a little too giddy about getting ice-cream. Malia is standing downstairs arms crossed and huffing impatiently as she waits for the boy to make it to the last step so she could pull him out the door. Stiles' dad is already in the police car waiting for the two teens.

Mr. Stilinksi used to do this, before his wife died and before Malia disappeared, he used to take all three kids: Scott, Stiles and Malia out for some ice-cream in his police car. He even let one of the kids turn on the sirens while they drove down a block. He used to do this when they all piled up in his home, when he got out early from work and found them running and screaming around on his property.

Scott had always been the most peaceful of the three, Stiles being the storm and Malia the fierce little free spirit that drove his son nuts. Claudia loved having the three musketeers in her house though, she loved both Scott and Malia, she always said that Scott kept Stiles from falling off cliffs and Malia was the little warrior that kept predators at bay. The little girl never let anyone else bully Stiles or Scott; often getting her knees and elbows scraped defending the two boys from bigger kids, even though Malia often _was_ the cause for Stiles' bruises and tears. The two just never seemed to get quite along like Scott and Stiles did or like Scott and Malia did, but Claudia didn't worry because she said those three were going to stay strong together no matter what. But then Claudia died and not soon after Malia disappeared.

"Okay you two, you better already have in mind what you want because I am not going to stand there for half an hour debating between 31 flavors," the sheriff turns to the rearview mirror, he had made the two sit in the back after they began quarreling about who had the right to sit in the front.

Malia nods her head with a serious expression before furrowing her brows in concentration. Stiles turns to look at her and scoffs, "What are you even pretending to think about? You always get chocolate." Malia rolls her eyes, "No, I don't." Stiles scoffs again, "Yes, you do. You spend 15 minute debating between 5 different flavors that aren't chocolate and at the end you _always_ end up getting chocolate. It gives me a headache." Malia doesn't say anything because she knows Stiles is right, so she simply crosses her arms and slumps down on the seat quite annoyed. Stiles smirks and feels quite pleased with himself, because _he_ _is_ _always_ right.

When they arrive at the ice-cream place, Stiles already knows what he is going to order. His dad orders the usual, an ice-cream sundae, and Stiles lets Malia order first. He winks at her with a stupid smirk on his face because he knows that Malia is not going to want to order chocolate after he teased her about it.

"Can I have...errrmmm...," she turns to look at Stiles, who is still there smirking like an idiot; Malia wants to kick him hard on the shin. She bites down on her bottom lip returning her concentration to the many flavors displayed before her.

_But chocolate is always better than strawberry and vanilla and chocolate chip and peanut butter and butter pecan and... _

The list can go on but the point is that chocolate is always the right answer at the end for Malia.

She sighs in defeat and grumbles out the word "Chocolate" while looking down at the floor. The lady behind the counter asks her again what she wants and Stiles steps in with a smile on his face, "She wants chocolate, two scoops please." Malia emits a low growl from the back of her throat as she glares sideways at Stiles, but the boy only laughs. "Make that two orders please," he calls out to the lady and winks.

The woman comes back with two two-scoop chocolate ice-cream cones, and hands them both to Stiles while his dad pays for the bill. "I'm not one to say 'I told you so' but well, I told you so." Malia snatches her ice-cream cone from Stiles' hand and stomps away and out the store behind the Sheriff. Stiles smiles to himself and walks out the door behind a fuming Malia, his ice cream tasting sweeter than ever.

* * *

"Can't you at least try and pretend to eat like a human, though I seriously doubt your horrible mannerisms have anything to do from your time as a coyote. That comes from birth," Stiles is still at it with Malia, but she only snarls at him not wanting to waste time talking when she could be eating.

Stiles doesn't take her threat seriously because her mouth is covered in chocolate and her hair is getting everywhere. He can't help but to think how much like little brats they look like right now and the whole scene is getting to embarrassing for the him to take any longer.

"Here," he hands her his ice-cream cone and her snarl is quickly replaced by twinkling eyes, "I'm not giving you my ice-cream, just hold it for me." Malia does and Stiles pauses for a moment, looking at the mess of Malia before him. Malia has never been the most "delicate" eater, not before she turned into a coyote and definitely not after.

His dad was talking with an old friend from the Police Academy that he had bumped into outside the ice-cream shop; Stiles and Malia were sent to eat their treats by the police car. Two families had already passed by them giving them weird pity stares and smiles. Malia is 17 now but he swears she could pass for a toddler with only her mannerisms and bluntness, her naivety was also a big characteristic.

He sighs and gently turns her around, deciding that he can't take much of her hair sticking to her chocolate covered face any longer. Malia doesn't protest when Stiles maneuvers her, she is too busy licking and nibbling at her ice-cream to care.

Stiles exhales sharply, he hasn't done this in quite a while, years to be exact, not since his mother died. Yet, he still remembers the steps and easy technique that his mother taught him so he figures it can't be that hard.

Malia's back is facing him and he brings his hands over her shoulders to gently sweep her hair back—sweeping strands away from her face while combing through her hair with his long fingers. The were-coyote doesn't say anything; she simply keeps licking her ice-cream letting Stiles play with her mane.

Malia's hair always looks wild and messy, nothing like Lydia's hair which is always neatly curled or styled in beautiful intricate ways. No, Malia never wears styles, Malia just simply _is._

He has touched Malia's hair before, but never like this, never for this long. He mostly ever does is pat her head, sweep a few strands away from her face or massage her scalp for a few seconds. But putting all jokes aside, that Malia never washes her hair, her hair is actually not what Stiles quite expected—it's not a bush, nor a haystack. Her hair is quite soft, naturally wavy and frizzy but soft.

He runs his fingers through her hair, combing a few more times, and leans forward to check that no lingering strands are bothering her face before splitting the hair into three sections.

He's only ever braided his mom's hair before when he begged her to teach him because he always loved watching her do it.

Stiles fingers tremble slightly at the memory before gently setting off to work. His hands and fingers seem to have a mind of their own as they swiftly gather momentum, not fumbling even once. Stiles gets lost into the rhythmic pace of the braiding too easily and too quickly. Its cold out and he should feel the temperature on his skin and fingers but he doesn't, instead he feels quite...safe at the moment.

Malia is staying almost completely still for Stiles, only moving her head subtly from time to time to lick at her ice-cream. "Stiles?" He is almost halfway done with the braid and he slows down the pace because the whole scene feels just so damn peaceful that he really doesn't want it to end. "Hmmm?" He soothingly responds, not looking away from his hands and Malia's hair. "Your ice-cream is melting. Can I save it?" The corner of his mouth lifts slightly into an almost smile before he quietly replies, "Yeah." Malia doesn't waste any time after she gets the 'okay' and munches down and licks at his ice-cream.

Stiles reaches the end of the braid, and remembers he needs to tie it off with something. He digs into his pockets looking for maybe a lost rubber-band or _something_ when he feels a string in the pocket of his hoodie. He pulls it out and decides that it is quite perfect and begins to tie it around the end of Malia's braid.

"There," he announces with a beaming smile and Malia turns to face him with a smile of her own. But of course the smile is covered in chocolate and Stiles has to raise an eyebrow because _okay. _He reaches to grab the napkins that his dad left in the car and a bottle of water and sets off to work on cleaning her off.

Malia does protest this time, because if she didn't feel like a child before she does now.

"No. Stiles."

"Just hold still, will you."

She grunts but does as he says, so he can finish quickly. He slightly wets the napkins before beginning to gently wipe at her cheeks, removing the chocolate stains to reveal natural pink stains from flushed cheeks underneath. Malia sighs and looks down at the floor, kicking invisible pebbles as she waits impatiently for Stiles to finish so she could continue on with her dessert. She doesn't understand why he is doing this if she is only going to end up getting dirty again in just a few minutes.

Stiles can't help but smile a little because again, Malia can be _damn_ cute sometimes, _only _sometimes. He moves down over to her chin wiping away the dried chocolate there and Malia raises her head, baring her neck for Stiles so he could gain better access. This time he can't help it, he huffs out a seamless laugh causing Malia to whip her head back down. She raises an eyebrow at Stiles but he only rolls his eyes as he continues cleaning her face. She has chocolate even on the tip of her nose and Stiles was about to go as far as to tell her to blow when he held himself back. _No, just no. _

He is almost done; he just needs the corners of her mouth and the outlines of her lips.

Her lips.

Her mouth.

He staggers, and Malia can feel the sudden change in atmosphere. She stares at him as his expression contorts into that of confusion. He is standing completely still, his lips slowly parting as he stares down at her mouth. Malia furrows her eyebrows because _what the hell, did he just break? _She concentrates on his breathing and his heartbeat; his heartbeat is loud and his breathing is visible in the way that his chest rises and falls.

She takes a step closer to him, the ice-cream cones being literally the only objects keeping them apart. "_Stiles_." Her eyebrows dig into the center of her forehead; she is growing frustrated with the unresponsive Stiles standing in front of her.

Stiles sees her lips move, but his brain doesn't register anything else. A few strands of hair escape her braid and they fall onto the side of her face. Stiles' eyes swiftly turn to look at them and his hand automatically reaches out to brush them back behind her ear. But he doesn't let his hand fall to his side right after. Instead he lets it linger by the side of her face, his fingers gently tracing the outline of her ear before brushing down to trace her jaw.

Malia keeps staring at him, her eyebrows digging harder into her forehead as she tries to comprehend what is happening with Stiles. His hand stops by her chin, and his eyes go back to her mouth, to the outlines of her lips. His expression is lost and confused, but his thumb makes its way to her bottom lip and he exhales ever so slowly as he begins to trace the chocolate covered outline.

Malia feels her lips get warm with his thumb hovering over it and she decides she has had enough of the freakishly weird Stiles. She opens her mouth and bites down hard on his thumb.

"OW! Malia! What the hell!?"

"You know what that was for!" The coyote girl grunts and shoves his ice-cream cone at him. She doesn't know exactly why, but she feels extremely frustrated and that makes her extremely mad.

"You guys ready to go?" Mr. Stilinski walks towards them, an oblivious smile on his face as he takes both his son's pained expression and Malia's pissed off one. "Uh Malia you got a little..." The sheriff gestures towards his mouth and Malia gets the cue. She pulls on the sleeves of Stiles' hoodie and rubs at her mouth hard. Stiles grunts because that is _his _hoodie she is dirtying, and Malia turns to scowl at him. She is suddenly extremely pissed off so she hands her melted ice-cream cone to the Sheriff and steps into the car.

"What was that about?" The Sheriff asks while turning to look at his son. Stiles mumbles something under his breath and hands his own ice-cream cone to his dad before also getting into the car. Mr. Stilinski raises an eyebrow and stares between the two ice-cream cones before saying, "what the hell?" He turns and walks towards the nearest trash can to dump the two miserable cones away.

"That's the last time I'm taking you two out for ice-cream," the sheriff says as he gets into his car, and he hears no complaints from either of the two teens which is weird. "Okay then," he says under his breath and starts the engine to head back home.

* * *

When they arrive home, Malia is the first to get out of the car stomping furiously towards the front door of the Stilinki house. The sheriff appears right after, fumbling with his keys as he takes quick glances at Malia. "Hey Malia, that's a nice braid," he comments trying hard at not having the were-coyote explode. "Stiles did it," she quickly remarks never turning to meet the sheriff's eyes. "Huh," he takes a better look at Malia's well-done braid and notices the string tied at the bottom of the braid. "Well he sure knows how to accessorize."

Malia scrunches her nose and finally turns to look at the Sheriff. He signals towards the tip of her braid and Malia glares down at it. Stiles had tied her hair with a blue string—a _blue_ string. She simply shrugs after Mr. Stilinski opens the door, and heads into the house. Stiles is walking up the stairs to the door when he hears Malia say, "Blue is just pretty."

He halts by the doorway, lets his hands stop from fidgeting with each other nervously, and smiles. That was the first thing Malia ever said and taught him, _blue is just pretty_, and he made sure to never forget.


	4. PEMDAS

**I had another idea for this sort of one-shot, and I actually started it but then this one happened. I feel there is stuff missing to it, and i might go back and add to it later, but due to lack of updates I have decided to present to you with an update (crappy but an update nonetheless). Oh and yes there is a reference in here to the song Crazy Beautiful by Andy Grammer. **

**If people like this one-shot I think i might make a part 2 of it, sort of like All About Control and Ice Cream &amp; Strings (damn i really need to organize all this, sorry bout that) **

**Hope you enjoy and please review =) **

* * *

"No Malia remember you have to solve for what's in the parenthesis first."

He is stuck with the uneducated were-coyote this week, since Lydia had tutored her last week. The whole pack was taking turns teaching her: Scott taught here were-creature stuff, Lydia taught her math and science, and Kira was in charge of History and Government. Stiles, on the other hand, felt like he was in charge of everything. He was the one answering the questions that were left unanswered after past study sessions with the other members of the pack. Sometimes it was were-creature stuff and other times it was algebra, but his biggest role was teaching her social cues and rights from wrongs.

Today, the were-creature had leftover questions about algebra, and Stiles was already feeling impatient, his lips swollen from the way he kept licking them out of restrained frustration.

"Remember, PEMDAS."

They had both been at it for what seemed like hours. They had started off with their books and elbows on his desk and now they were both laying belly flat on his bedroom rug.

"Ugh! This is stupid."

Malia grunts pushing herself off of her belly, and sitting down on her butt, legs and arms crossed in front of her.

"No its not, its math and math is essential." Stiles follows suit, pushing himself from his elbows and sitting back on his heels.

They've had this conversation before, plenty times before. Only that the main subject of their back-to-back always differs from things like Literature to things like History. It is always an argument about what really matters, what is truly essential for life. Yet, they never agree because the life that Malia once lived and the life that Stiles lives are complete opposites.

Malia raises her eyebrow, ready to rebuke Stiles stupid ideas about essentialism. "Not where I come from." She states with an almost scoff. "Didn't need _PEMDAS_ to survive all those years."

The way she says PEMDAS, as if Stiles had been the one to invent it as if he'd been the one to come up with the pointless acronym makes him twist in the inside. She is making fun of it, gesturing with her tone how stupid and unnecessary the algebra rule is in the real world, and in some way Stiles takes it far too personally.

"Oh right, cuz coyotes are so damn smart. They can tip-toe their way into anything, and still manage to get caught."

He knows Malia hates that, hates the fact that Scott and his pack had managed to catch her and turn her back into human. If anything Malia prides herself with is her badass wild side-being not exactly 100% human and weak like him.

She emits a low growl that intensifies with her menacing stare and directs it right at him. Its a warning, a threat to either shut the hell up and submit or suffer the consequences.

Stiles is the only idiot Malia knows who doesn't take her threats very seriously.

"Oh god," he scoffs "would you end it with the beastly, nobody takes that-"

Stiles is cut short of his sentence. Malia doesn't shit around with her threats, everybody except Stiles seems to understand that.

"Unghf!" His back hits the floor pretty damn hard making his words choke in his throat. Malia literally made him eat his own words when she pounced on him. "Fuck" he whines out, and then he is crying out in pain for the way his legs are still awkwardly folded underneath him. "Ow! Ow!" He manages to set his legs free and stretches them out before they start cramping. Yet, his discomfort doesn't subside because a new pain is screaming from the base of his shoulders.

"Malia…" he whines "...claws."

Malia takes the whole pinning down ordeal to an almost very literal level.

She is on all fours over him, her eyes glowing a pissed off blue and growling menacingly, keeping her very annoying prey trapped under her claws.

"Mal," Stiles calls out again tapping her leg in sign for release, for surrender. Her claws are one thing, but her supernatural weight is another. The palms of her hands are pressing down hard on his upper body, and the crushing force is leaving him breathless.

Malia is too into her anger, focused on making this irritable human surrender to her. Which he does—he surrenders, she sees the white flag in his "tapping out" gesture. He always taps out; he never lasts more than 2 minutes, so she doesn't understand why he even bothers to get her all heated up in the first place if he can't even put up a fight. She immediately pulls back removing her heavy palms from Stiles shoulders, and retracts her claws.

Stiles groans as Malia's eyes turn back into that chocolatey brown hue. She is seeing in all colors again when Stiles raises himself on his forearms and glares at her. She is sitting on him, her weight resting comfortably on his lap when she notices the small marks of her claws on his blue T-shirt.

Stiles follows her gaze, and immediately starts whining, "I just bought this t-shirt." But Malia is more focused on the possible damage to his shoulders and skin than on the damage to his shirt.

She forgets sometimes, how strong she really is. She forgets that her claws are extremely sharp and that Stiles doesn't heal so easily. She forgets when her eyes turn blue and she is on that limbo of having control but not really.

She would never intentionally want to hurt Stiles, not even unintentionally. The boy drives her insane, but he's always driven her insane. All she ever thinks about when she pins him down like that, punches him or growls at him is that she's always done it. Well except for the growling, her growls are more of an instinct, and sincere now.

Her actions always had consequences, but now they have _dire_ consequences, especially when it comes to the squishy boy beneath her. She forgets herself sometimes, and then she always feels a sense of guilt and panic at the possible aftermath of her 'playful' actions.

She is feeling that sense of minor panic in response to the tiny holes in Stiles' t-shirt right this very moment. Her claws went through the fabric and possibly into his skin, but she can't see any blood or smell it from where she is at.

Malia isn't hesitant she isn't shy either, so she doesn't think twice when she reaches out to pull down the collar of Stiles' T-shirt.

"Hey, Hey!"

Stiles is too slow, he hears the stitches of the fabric crack before he even wraps his hand around her wrist. His shirt is definitely ruined now, the collar a lose mess.

He groans again in annoyance because _what the hell_, property damage is so not cool. His mind slings a flashback at him: a certain annoying girl with wild hair and her damn Hulk toy, and a certain spazz of a boy with his spiderman toy accidentally managing to break off one of the Green Giant's limbs. It was a damn purposeful accident, they were eight and Malia didn't want to admit Spiderman was cooler than Hulk, so he had to prove it in some way. He thinks back on that memory and wonders if this was some sort of payback, she didn't rip his arm off but the gesture was close enough.

All his weight is resting on one very shaky elbow, and Stiles doesn't know how long his upper body will hold.

"Malia what the he- ah ahh"

He tries to pull her hand away, but she pulls on his shirt farther down causing him to wobble, and Stiles has to bring his arm back down to support his teetering self. His eyes are wide and incredulous at her actions and his chest heaves out an offended breath. He feels a little exposed, okay, _a lot_ exposed. He is showing bare shoulder like some tease out of his own free will, and there is something simply too damn erotic and wrong about it all.

He is about to call out Malia on this one, because there are just some damn lines you are not meant to cross and this feels like one of them.

He licks his really dry lips a little too fervently, before allowing himself to look at Malia. He has already made a list of offensive adjectives to call her, starting with pervert, when the first sound dies right on his lips. Malia's hand is on his bare shoulder, the pad of her fingers tracing his skin with a delicacy he didn't know she possessed. His body reacts immediately to her touch, his heart beating a little too excitedly in his chest, and there is a sudden heat throbbing in more than one place in his body. His eyes are wide and sparkly when he searches Malia's face for some damn explanation to this, this, whatever this is.

Malia is too focused on his pale shoulder, her eyebrows furrowed as she stares down at the four small red marks invading Stiles skin. The marks are the size of the tip of her claws and though the wounds don't seem big or deadly she still scowls at them.

Malia isn't great at saying sorry, she is good at huffing, looking down at the ground and kicking invisible stones when she knows she's done or said something wrong. But actually taking the tame to pronounce those two little syllables that would make her life as a human so much easier, nope, simply never.

Stiles is growing tired in his position, his arms shaking at the lack of muscle and built to sustain such weight for such a long interval of time. He fidgets a little on his forearms, causing his shoulder to move slightly, and that is when he feels a sudden sting.

He frowns and finally directs his stare to the same spot Malia is so concentrated on. "Ow," is his instinctive response, though there is no tone of pain behind it. The small scratches don't really hurt; he didn't even notice it until he felt that faint sting. They were injuries as inconspicuous as a papercut on your finger, almost nonexistent until you decide to pour some hand-sanitizer small papercut becoming the center of your world thereafter.

Yet, Malia only knows to register cues such as "Ow", "Ah!", "Ouch!", "Motha Fuckin' Shit!" or some occasional "Fuck" as signs of pain. So when she hears Stiles say "Ow" with an almost monotone expression she instinctively whips her attention to his face to clue in on his level of distress. There is a frown and a minor detail of awe and discomfort, and she immediately thinks _I hurt Stiles. _

Scott hasn't yet taught her how to take pain away, and she has no clue on how to properly mend human wounds; she still sucks at expressing her guilt and remorse through language so she does what only she knows.

She surges forward towards Stiles' pale shoulder and connects her lips to his skin right over her claw mark before she gently parts her lips and runs her tongue over the cut.

"He-Hey! Wha- whoa." Stiles is taken by freaking surprise when she surges forward, especially when he feels her firm warm lips pressing against his skin. "Shi-shhh. Wa-ha" there is an even greater surprise when warmth caresses his skin with a wet tongue, with Malia's wet tongue.

If Stiles arms were slightly shaking from exhaustion before, now they were trembling from something more. His heart, he feels, is running freaking miles per second and it speeds up with every lap of her warm tongue against his skin.

He doesn't realize how much of his breathing he is detaining, until her mouth breaks apart from his shoulder and he releases a long shaky breath that leaves his chest empty.

He feels he is ready to let his arms give way underneath him when Malia's mouth attacks his shoulder again.

He closes his lids tight and tries to focus hard at fighting the flow of his blood from rushing south. "Malia," he pleads because his arms are trembling violently beneath him and the excessive heat that erupted out of nowhere is becoming almost too unbearable. There is tightness occurring down in his belly that is making the muscles in his hips and pelvis recoil and there is only so much compression his springs can hold before they spring upwards.

"Mmmm?" She hums against his skin and Stiles has to bite down hard on his lip. There are thoughts running through his mind this very moment that should be illegal. Thoughts which in his right mind would have never been associated with Malia_ freaking_ Hale.

He inhales as much oxygen as he can before he finds the strength to pull out one of his supporting arms to tug Malia off of him. He must not have enough strength left in him, because he barely even manages to tug at the sleeve of her shirt.

"Al-," he feels as Malia laps her tongue against his cut once, her lips brushing his skin "-most" as she breaks the word into whispered syllables. "Done," and with that last word she brushes her tongue against the length of his shoulder in one swift motion making Stiles lose all self-control.

He moans out and shakes feverishly before plummeting down to the floor in short gasps. If Stiles didn't know any better he would think he just had an orgasm, but it can't be because there is a certain throbbing very much alive down in his southern regions that tells him otherwise.

Malia cocks her head to the side frowning, she is a little confused at Stiles meltdown, but then she takes a big whiff at the air and smiles wide. She could smell something very pleasant coming from Stiles and that makes her feel she did well with her wound licking. It may not be as fast as healing supernaturally, but it helps with the pain and the process. She drops on all four again hovering right above a very flushed Stiles, and reaches out to pull down on the other side of the shirt, licking her lips in preparation.

Stiles is rather quick this time, he grabs her wrist and pushes her hand away before it gets close to any danger zone. Malia frowns upset that she is not being allowed to apologize for her wrongdoing. She tries to push her hand back to Stiles' shoulder, but Stiles detains her once again. "No" is all he says before he is rolling her off of him, and she lets him while feeling rather confused.

"But I still need the other-"

"No. Trust me, that's enough." He is pulling his shirt back up by the shoulder, trying to pull himself back together. There is still a slight tremble in his body, but it'll wear off in a few seconds as long as Malia keeps her distance.

"Stiles, it won't hurt as much if I lick it. You won't be able to reach."

"No, its okay. It'll heal fine on its own." He still can't manage to look at her, he still feels a little too worked up and looking at her might make the crimson on the sides of his face more obvious. But he can feel her eyes on him, and it's not helping his case, it is actually making it harder to pull himself back together. He takes a deep breath and exhales loudly, "No more licking me. Anywhere." He finally finds the courage to look at her, "Ever."

Malia scrunches her nose, Stiles looks pretty worked up and extremely sensitive. He turned to look at her but he hasn't really looked at her in the eye. He is acting weirder that his usual self the way he keeps darting his gaze onto nonexistent parts of the room.

She is glaring at him, trying to decipher his emotions when he finally looks at her from under his long lashes. Her stern expression softens at his, there is something timid and expectant in his eyes, and it makes her lips slightly part and her heart beat faster. She feels an intensity rise as he lifts his gaze, there is something carried in the way they are looking at each other. Her chest is rising and falling as he slowly lifts his eyelids further, never breaking eye contact. A sweet aroma fills her senses making the blood in her veins pump faster, and she suddenly wants to dig her face back into the hollow space between his neck and shoulder. But just as all these emotions and urges come rushing in they go flying out.

"Gross, I got coyote slobber all over me," Stiles is the first to break the invisible contact.

Malia scrunches her nose again, feeling quite distraught at the rude interruption of a pleasurable and excitable moment. Now that sweet adrenaline feeling is quickly being replaced with annoyance, the same feeling that got them in this mess in the first place.

"Well I wouldn't have needed to lick it if you weren't so damn fragile."

"Well I wouldn't have needed licking if you hadn't acted like such a wild animal."

He pulls his loose collar upward again, turning a pale shade of red, before he sticks his tongue out at her like a prepubescent kid. She snarls at him and Stiles shuts it this time. There is a moment of awkwardness in Stiles part before Malia breaks it, like always.

"PEMDAS, still pointless," she shrugs and easily falls into before like a moment ago did not just happen. Stiles sighs, because a coyote girl is dangerous enough but a were-coyote Malia, he has no words for her.

Stiles lets himself fall back on his belly after Malia does. Her concentration is back on her math equation, forearm raised by her elbow, cheek resting in her hand as she scowls at the numbers and symbols.

He is looking at her, and the corner of his mouth pulls up into a smile. He doesn't know when exactly he started smiling more at the thought and image of Malia Hale. Yet, he knows that for all that she is a little bit wild, a little bit mad, and a little bit uh-oh he still finds himself liking her more and more in a way that he cannot understand.


End file.
